Crimes
by JaspreetPink
Summary: HPOz crossover. Harry Potter saved the world and almost destroyed it. Sent out of England and into Oz, he gets caught in the middle of Operation Andy while trying to work through his past. S3 of Oz, Post Hogwarts.
1. Chapter 1: Future and Past

A/N: This is a Harry Potter/Oz crossover, if you haven't realized that yet. Oz is a prison show, so there will be some very adult content, I'm sorry. This is the most messed up crossover idea I've ever had. Hopefully this will turn out well. Please review and tell me if I should continue it, because maybe it's just too weird, you know? Also, I don't know how Harry would act if he was crazy, just bear with me...  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all JK Rowling and Tom Fontana.

Crimes

Chapter 1: Future and Past

Prisoner number 99P334, Harry James Potter. Convicted March 1st, 1999. Three counts of murder in the first degree. Sentence: life imprisonment without the possibility of parole.

Welcome to Oz. Welcome to Em City. Welcome to hell.

"Where you from?" Keller asks as he leads Potter to their pod.

"Britain," Potter replies. The kid looks dazed, but then again, who wouldn't in the situation? Keller turns into their pod and Potter shuffles in behind him, placing his pile of bedding on the lower bunk.

"Why're you here?" Keller leans against the bunk bed looking interested as Potter begins putting the sheets on. He stops, though, at that question, and straightens up.

"Why am I here?" He laughs bitterly, and then adds, "Why _am_ I here? I suppose I've murdered people, haven't I?" Potter goes back to putting on the sheets, scowling all the while. "I don't really remember the other stuff."

"I meant why are you serving time in the U.S. instead of the U.K.?" Keller asks.

"Politics. They didn't want me around, their great disappointment…" he pauses. "Got my wish now, didn't I? To _not_ be adored," he mutters mostly to himself, and suddenly it seems so funny to him.

"Okay then," Keller exclaims as he moves to the door. "I'd like you to meet a friend of mine," he says over his shoulder. Potter just blinks at him. Keller just grabs his hand to lead him out of the room, and grudgingly Potter obeys.

The kid's only about nineteen, and his scruffy black hair, lanky body, and round glasses make him look younger.

"Weird scar," Keller observes as they walk down to the common area.

Reflexively Potter's hand goes up to the lightning bolt shaped scar. "Had it since I was a baby," is all he says.

"Hey, Beech!" Keller calls to Beecher, who is sitting, whispering with Andy Schillenger. _I want Beecher, I want Beecher, I want Beecher…_

"What is it, Keller?" Beecher asks, looking annoyed to be interrupted.

Keller clapped a hand on Potter's shoulder. "I got Andy here a new brother to play with," he smiled and looked from Potter to Beecher. "He's nuts and he wears glasses, so I assumed he was _your_ offspring."

"Ha ha," Beecher replies dryly.

"I've already got a brother," Andy chimes in, "and having Hank's bad enough."

"Well, won't this be a happy family? Me an' Beecher, plus our boys…" Keller's really having too much fun with this, and the pissed look on Beecher's face only seems to make it better. _I want Beecher, I want Beecher, I want Beecher…_It occurs to Keller that teasing isn't really going to help the "Win Toby Back" plan.

"I never had a brother, but er—I have a cousin I grew up with that was horrible…" All three men look at him. "Well, _had_ a cousin." At this he smiles without knowing why.

"Don't smile," Beecher barks, "and lose the glasses—fast." He sends a withering look to Keller. "You're such a fucking bitch, you know that?"

"So I hear."

"Why does he get to smile?" Potter asks morosely.

"Because Keller is scary while you are fresh prag meat. Got it?" Beecher swings his cane from the tabletop to the floor, and heaves himself up. "Come on, Andy." To Keller, soft enough so only he can hear, "Deal with your own shit, Keller, don't bring it to me. And the you and me thing? Get over it." Beecher limps away, the dark glowering look on his face giving him a wide berth.

Andy leans towards Potter, eyes icing him over as he gives a small 'humpf'. "Nice meeting you," he says derisively before following Beecher.

"What was that all about?" Potter asks in a relatively normal voice. "What happened to that bloke with the cane?"

"I broke his arms and legs," Keller replies blithely, and as Potter goes pale, he adds, "Well, only the arms, someone else broke his legs." Keller starts walking. "You coming to lunch?"

"Sure." He looks over in Beecher's direction. "I _can_ take care of myself, you know." He stuffs his hands in his pockets starts walking. "Sometimes only too well."

"Hello Neville," Harry says, clinging the phone to his ear and turning his back on the glass wall—privacy's hard to get in Oz, but he reflexively tries to get some.

"No—no they haven't" Harry says with resignation and pain. "Did you really expect them to?"

Harry listens plaintively to the explanation. "I know, I understand," he nearly whispers, and his whole body seems to be shaking. "But Neville, can you _please_ ask them again to come visit me—or even just write me?" He pauses to hear more of Neville's sad, near stuttering words. "He did? Maybe then Ron could just come then, I'd understand if Hermione didn't want to come here. _I_ don't want to be here," adds, almost to himself.

Harry nods wearily. "Alright then, we'll see. How are you doing?" He gives a weary smile of remembrance at what he hears. "Well, that's Luna isn't it? You sound happy—I'm glad for you."

Neville talks more, and it wipes the rare grin from Harry's face. "Neville, it's not your fault. What else could we do?" He sighs and then adds sincerely, "What you did that night—was truly great. A Gryffindor-worthy moment if there ever was one. I feel bad that I now have to bother you at all."

They say good-bye and Harry hangs up the phone.


	2. Chapter 2: A Lay of the Situation

Chapter 2: A Lay of the Situation

Harry never played Poker before, but the guys had run him through the basics, although of course he was losing horribly. He gives a glance to his right, at Keller. He's leaning back in his chair, arms and cards held out before him, all smug grin and hawk-like nose, eyes daring them all a bit. A glance to his left and he sees Andy Schillenger, head bent over as he looks intently at his hand of card.

"Potter," Beecher says curtly. "How many cards?"

Harry frowns as his attention is drawn back to his own hand. "Er…two." He slaps down his two cards and picks up the ones Beecher tosses him.

Harry can't explain it, but it's Beecher who frightens him. There's just something too cold and calculating about him, like he's a cat ready to strike, and unlike a lot of the men in Oz, Beecher is intelligent, a former lawyer. Now, Harry had heard things about prison, about the things that went on there—no, _here_—and at the time he hadn't cared because anything, even rape, had seemed better than having his soul sucked out in a frozen Dementor's kiss, or spending a lifetime in Azkaban. But Beecher seems to have a strange bond with both Andy and Keller, as if both are tied to him: Andy, with attention and Keller with the lack of it. Harry sometimes sees Keller giving Beecher intense stares, and then smiles fondly at Beecher's insults.

"Hey man, whatever drugs you're on, ya gotta start sharing'em with me." Andy's head is close to Harry's, his eyes wide. He suddenly cracks and starts laughing loudly.

"Sorry, mate. My mind was wandering," Harry explains lamely.

Keller's chuckling and even Beecher's cracked a smile. Of course, why didn't he see it before? Harry Potter, one of the leading forms of entertainment in prison.

"Yeah, we could see that," Keller says.

"Well, don't worry, if I become possessed, I'm sure there will be a load of yelling, that should alert you," Harry says in a bright, self-pitying way.

All three have sobered up and are looking at him strangely. Harry wonders if he should say something or let them think he's crazy.

"You aren't taking drugs, are you?" Beecher asks. He says this so seriously that Harry wonders about Beecher's own history with drugs.

"No, of course I'm not," he says. He lays his hand out on the table: an ace, two, three, four, and a five, all in hearts. "What is this again, is it good?" he asks.

The others throw down their cards in a fold.

Now who said Harry Potter's luck had fled him?

The first time Harry meets Andy's dad, it's in the gym. When he first sees Vern Schillenger, Andy's ramming into him as they wrestle on the mat. Keller keeps yelling instructions at them, and Beecher's standing to the side, leaning on his cane. As Andy pins him down on the mat, Harry realizes Keller has stopped yelling, and all he can hear is rhythmic _slap_ as Cyril O'Reilly beats up the punching bag. Andy gets off him and it's just Harry lying on the mat, looking up in to Schillenger's disdainful stare.

"Who're you?" Schillenger asks.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry sees Keller move a step closer.

Schillenger's mouth curls in a grin. "You Keller's new butt buddy, then?" He looks at Keller. "Would've thought he would wait it out with Beecher, his one true love." He gives a chuckle. "But I know ol'Chris, don't I? He'll stick his cock in any orifice offered him."

Harry scrambles to his feet and takes a step back. _I don't want to fight; I don't want to fight, not again… _His fear is drumming in his ears and his veins.

Beecher, with a grimace as he steps forward leaning heavily on his cane, gets into Schillenger's face. Schillenger scowls, and the depth of hatred between the two men is palpable. "Leave the boy out of this, Vern. It's me you want to deal with, isn't it?"

"Step away, you two!" a hack calls across the gym.

"Yeah, I wanna deal with you Beecher. I'm gonna kill you for what you're doing to my son." Schillenger steps back and grimaces. "But not today. I've got something big planned for you, Beecher." He gives a quick glance to Keller and Harry. "And your little boyfriends too."

Harry blanches.

Schillenger begins walking away, sparing a concerned look at Andy, who is carefully examining his shoes. Harry turns to Beecher, who looks worried.

"Andy." Beecher says--half query, half command.

Andy's round little head bobs up. "Yeah?" he drawls.

"Try that move again on Potter."

Later, in their pod, Harry asks Keller, "Why are you protecting me? What do you want from me? This is prison, so I don't think you and the others are just being nice for no reason."

Harry is standing next to the bunk, his head on level with Keller's as he lies on his back on the top bunk, flipping through a porno magazine. "Well you looked so helpless," he replies, laughing. "And I guess…I wanted to show someone that I wasn't so bad, after all." Keller now lays down the magazine and turns his head to Harry, putting his hand behind his head as he does so. "But your real question is if I want to fuck you or not."

Harry can't help but blush and feels such a fool for it. After all he had been through, and yet…"So, er…do you?"

Keller looks at him like prey and asks in a low, husky voice, "Do you want me to?"

Harry's eyes widen in shock and his mind goes blank. He feels as if Keller and he are locked in a private moment, an island in the sea of Oz. _Did_ he want him to?

Keller breaks out laughing and Harry blushes even harder.


	3. Chapter 3: Quarrels, Friends, and the Dr

Chapter 3: Quarrels, Friends, and the Drawbacks of Eavesdropping

Harry absolutely dreads going to his first session with Sister Peter Marie. She seems nice enough, of course, but she would ask questions, try to fix him—and that would be the worst mistake of all. There were some wounds in Harry that shouldn't try to be healed. They should just scar over. It wasn't what he was afraid to tell her that was the problem; it was what he'd remember without wanting to. Harry plagues himself with the worrying thoughts from the moment he's informed of the session the night before. He broods on it as he walks to the showers, almost missing his chance to eavesdrop on Beecher and Keller.

Lucky enough, he does notice their voices as they speak under the stairway. They're trying to keep their voices low and failing miserably. Beecher tries to put as much venom in his voice as possible when he says, "_Fuck_ you, Keller. I may have needed you and O'Reily to begin with, but now I own Andy Schillenger's ass, and the rest is up to his dad and me. You've served your purpose."

Keller speaks softer, and Harry can't make out what he says. Beecher replies, "You did it for us? That's touching, but bullshit. Do you honestly think I would trust you again? Be that vulnerable again, so you could slip in and break something else?"

Silence, then, "What are we gonna do about Schillenger?" Keller asks.

More silence, and then Beecher gives in. "Motherfucker says he's got a plan to mess with us? I've got a plan of my own that involves Andy sticking a shank in ol'Vern. Let's see who comes out on top."

Beecher suddenly pops out from under the stairs and sees Harry, crouched down to better eavesdrop. Slowly, he steps closer to the stricken boy. "Meet me in the library tomorrow, three o'clock."

Beecher limps away, leaving Harry with his heart caught in his throat. Luckily, Keller doesn't notice him, and walks away to the computer room. Harry forces his feet to move him to the shower room.

He doesn't make it there without eavesdropping again, and this time completely unintentionally.

"…heard he whacked his whole family: aunt, uncle and cousin. Then he mutilates the bodies, hacking them to pieces, and he's got this wooden bowl that he uses to collect the blood for some fucked-up voodoo magic…"

The world around Harry seems to dim around the edges. Before he can faint, he makes his way to the showers and as soon as he's through the door he curls up in a ball under the sink.

"Didn't, wasn't me, wasn't me, I, I, I—it wasn't me, sword didn't cut through the flesh, no, no—didn't get the blood, blood didn't set me free, not free, why didn't it work?" Harry mumbles very softly, jittering away like a bird, and he's slightly rocking and shivering. Some sane part of his brain realizes what's going on and his ashamed that he can't better control himself. But those memories of the Dursleys, they're stronger than any other memory he tries to repress. Sometimes he swears he can almost remember the taste of the blood and bitter herbs.

"Hey there, English," Ryan O'Reily greets as he enters the room, then stops and does a double take. Tilting his head, Ryan asks, "Are you alright?" Harry doesn't answer so Ryan comes closer and crouches down to get a better look at Harry. "Hey man, whatever it is, it's going to be ok." Ryan reaches out a hand to Harry's shoulder, but the boy flinches and Ryan slowly draws his hand back. "Alright, no touching. But if you need anything," he pulls a small bag with white powder out of his pocket, shows it to Harry and then pockets it again.

"Ryan!" Cyril, Ryan's brain-damaged brother, calls as he walks into the room.

"Cyril," Ryan says as he stands, "maybe you want to talk to this nice guy here. He's from England, you know."

"Wow," Cyril says in his slow, dampened speech. "Is England very far away, Ryan?"

"It sure is, it's right next to Ireland."

"Ryan, we're Irish! He's like our neighbor!" Cyril get on his hands and knees and peers at Harry like he's a puppy. "Hello neighbor!"

"H-Hello," Harry stutters out. He looks from the beaming Cyril to his smirking brother. What was he up to?

"I gots to take a shower now. I was training real hard, I'm gonna be the champion. Aren't I, Ryan?" He looks back over his shoulder.

"You sure are. Now, I've got some business to do, so you stay here with your new friend, and try to cheer him up. He's very sad."

Ryan O'Reily is an insane man. Harry wonders what it is about himself that makes people trust him and protect him, even ones as devious as Ryan and Keller. Harry tries to comfort himself with the fact that he's been manipulated into babysitting Cyril, but it just doesn't seem to work.

Cyril has gotten up, and Harry moves away from the sink and stands up. He nods to Ryan, who smiles and leaves.

"Why are you so sad?" Cyril asks him.

"I-I hurt people, and I feel bad about it." A simplified version of the truth, but it would have to do.

"I hurt Doctor Nathan's husband. I feel really sad about that. When I meet him in Heaven, I know just what I'm gonna say to him," he recites like he's said it a hundred times.

Cyril and Harry both take off their shirts, then begin pulling off their shoes.

"What are you going to say, Cyril?"


End file.
